SENECA MOUNTAIN
Chapter Four
“Uhhhh…that’s great, Butter,” David said. He managed a nervous smile, but his innards churned as he processed the revelation.
The monochrome yellow microfluffy had come to live in the boys’ dormitory alone, and his cheerful demeanor and unwavering trust had grown on the awkward freshman. They had become friends over the past couple of months, with David sneaking the fluffy food and the tiny stallion, in return, providing a vacuum for all of the boy’s idle thoughts.
Butter seemed to be a survivor, but David knew the earthie wouldn’t survive long either in the harsh, cold winter or if some less amenable student were to find him. So far, only he and Maddie Cohen knew that the creature even existed.
“So, how long has this…uh…been a thing?”
The two micros looked at each other, and then back at the boy (who must have appeared as a giant to them). “Weww, Buttew am owtside makin’ gud poopies ‘bout tuu, nu fwee bwite-times ‘gu, an Buttew heaw scawy munstah!”
David nodded, listening to the story. He was slightly unnerved at the “special friend’s” fluttering wings, but managed to not show it.
“Buttew make scawedy-poopies an wun ‘way fwom da scawy munstah, den fine speshuw-fwend! Scawy munstah gu ‘way, den, an speshuw-fwend come back tu da nestie wif Buttew an num wotsa gud nummies dat nice mistah gif tu Buttew. Den dawk-time come, an Buttew an speshuw-fwend haf speshuw-huggies!”
“Buttew teww fwuffy aww ‘bout da bestes’ nice mistah, an how da nice mistah sabe Buttew fwom da cowd time an’ da scawy munstahs! Soon-mummah am gon’ haf wotsa babbehs fo nice mistah! Babbehs gif nice mistah wotsa huggies, an wuv, an pway, an huggies—”
“Ok, ok. I think I get the point. So, you’ve only been preg—uh, had ‘tummy babies’—for the last two ‘bright times’, then?”
The off-white pegasus nodded stupidly. Both micros wore big, goofy grins on their faces. They clearly had no idea just how much harder they had made David’s life. The thought crossed his mind to just stomp her right then and there, solving the problem and sending a message to her idiotic stallion lover—but he quickly put it away. He couldn’t do that to Butter. The put-upon boy sighed, and then turned back to the mare.
“Well, if you’re going to have babies, you’d probably better go back to the nest and get some good sleep. Butter and I need to talk.”
“Otay, nice mistah! Fankoo fow nummies an’ da bestes’ nestie! Fwuffy wuv ‘oo!”
The tiny pegasus shuffled back to the hole. David wondered momentarily just how long she’d be able to fit through that hole, and then shook his head. “Butter…just how am I supposed to care for a whole family of fluffies?”
The yellow earthie cocked his head. “Buttew nu unnastand. Nice mistah haf saddies ‘gain?”
“No, I’m not sad. I am freaking out a bit, though. I mean, it’s one thing for me to hide one of you here—to sneak food out of the cafeteria in a container, make sure no one sees you, and to make sure that you know to poop outside—”
“Nu wowwy, nice mistah!” the still-chipper stallion sang, “Buttew awweady teww speshuw-fwend make poopies owtside, an aww da mummahs in Buttew’s owd hewd nummed aww da bad poopies when babbehs tuu wittwe fo make gud poopies!”
“It’s not…it’s not just about the poop, though, Butter,” the boy interjected. “There are now two fluffy ponies living in the wall. Foals grow up to be big fluffies. What happens when we have ten fluffies living in the wall, and then they all decide they want foals? There’s just not enough room here.”
“Nice mistah…nu wuv speshuw fwend an’ babbehs? Bu babbehs am fo’ huggies an wuv! Babbehs make evewyfing bettah!”
“No, it’s not that I don’t lo—” David stopped himself before committing to something he didn’t really mean. Then he groaned and put on his coat. “Look, we’ll talk more about this later. I need to get some air.”
The freshman slammed the door behind him and walked down the hall towards the building’s exit. He had some research to do at the library.
Butter just stood on the dorm room’s tile floor, his head cocked to the side, wondering what he had done wrong.
Seneca chartered five different buses from the airport in Roanoke to bring students back to campus at the end of the long winter break. The first arrived on Friday evening, bringing back Josh Crowder and several other classmates of David’s. The two boys sat down to dinner in the cafeteria and chatted about their respective vacations, upcoming class assignments, and other matters of import to teenage boys.
“How were things over at Dr. Latimer’s? I heard you guys got a lot more snow over the break.”
“Yeah we did,” David said, chewing on a tough bit of beef steak. “Thank God they’ve both got four-wheel drive, or we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere. How was DC?”
“It was shit, as usual,” the redheaded boy said, dismissively. “We did get to go watch the Redskins get their asses beaten again. Those luxury boxes are pretty sweet. Hey, Ben told me his mom’s driving him back tomorrow, so I think we’re gonna start a new D&D campaign—you want in?”
“Maybe,” he replied. He would have jumped at the chance under normal circumstances, had Maddie’s card not said that she would be on the second Saturday bus—it would be a good opportunity to gauge how she felt about him. Besides, she might have some good advice on how to handle his…infestation.
“Ok, well, let me know. If nothing else, I’m sure we can add you next week.”
Don’t you chicken out, Maddie Cohen! You like him, he likes you, and it’s about time you did something about it!
The uncomfortable two hour bus ride gave Maddie a lot of time to overthink her return to campus. In that time, she had alternately convinced herself that David Owings would and wouldn’t be waiting as the bus pulled into the campus driveway, that he would and wouldn’t be looking specifically for her, and that he would and wouldn’t be planning to kiss her as soon as their eyes met.
She must have pulled her compact mirror out at least thirty times to check her lip gloss, her eyes (which now had contacts instead of thick glasses), and her hair. The first two pleased her, but an entire day dealing with plane and bus travel made her extremely self-conscious about her hair.
Still, he’s only ever seen you in your school uniform or in old ratty pajama pants before. This has to be an improvement, right? The girl had worn a cute beret and her nicest winter coat, hoping to make a good first impression. She audibly gasped as the bus turned in front of the Georgian-style administrative building. As it squealed to a stop, she looked out over the crowd of students who had gathered to greet their friends, hoping to spot the boy who occupied many of her waking thoughts.
Ohmygod, there he is! As David was not an exceptionally tall boy, and was still only fourteen, she had trouble spotting him between DeShawn Craig and Thad Fuller, who were both on the basketball team. But once she saw him, he was the only person on the sidewalk as far as she was concerned.
Maddie waited impatiently for the students in front of her to collect their things. Everyone else on the bus seemed to be dawdling—but not her. She had quickly picked up her purse—the only item she brought with her onto the bus—and stood tapping the headrest on the seat in front of her.
Five minutes later, she finally reached the steps. She walked towards him, and he towards her. Once she got close enough, she threw her arms around him and…gave him a hug.
Maddie Cohen, you coward.
Despite chickening out, she had to admit that the hug felt really good. David didn’t pull away, and the girl felt tingly all over. It was all she could do to not squeal at the sensation of his hands wrapped around the small of her back.
“I’m glad to see you, David.”
“I’m glad to see you, too. Do you have any bags or anything?”
“Yeah, I’ve got two suitcases in the outside compartment.”
“You want me to carry them for you?”
Maybe. If I let you out of this hug. “Awww, that’s so sweet! If it’s not too much trouble.”
David found and picked up Maddie’s bags, and the two of them started walking along the cleared sidewalk to Carlisle Hall. They talked about their respective holidays, their families, and once they were out of earshot of any other students, the girl asked,
“How did Butter manage through the break?”
She quickly became aware that the wheels on her travel bags had stopped moving, and that hers were the only boots making noise on the sidewalk. She looked at the boy beside her. He stared down at the pavement, biting his lip.
Oh no. I hope he didn’t die. “David, what happened? What’s wrong?”
“It’s bad. It’s really bad.”
Much has been said and written about the fecundity of fluffy ponies. Although a standard fluffy pony mare is considered fully grown at eight weeks, she becomes sexually mature at four weeks. Her gestation lasts four weeks, and it is possible that she can become fertile the day after she gives birth, although some studies evince a possibility of a mare becoming fertile on the same day that she gives birth. Considering that the average fluffy pony gives birth to a litter of four to six foals at a time (though eight is not an uncommon occurrence), it is within the realm of possibility that a single, fertile, fluffy pony mare can result in a population numbered in the millions within a single year.
Now consider the following facts about microfluffies: micros become fully grown and sexually mature in half the time. Their gestation period is half that of a regular fluffy. And like standard fluffy ponies, studies indicate that a mare may become pregnant either on the day of or the day after her last foaling. And births of up to ten foals at a time weren’t uncommon. The staggering numerical possibilities this presents leave little doubt as to why such tiny, fragile creatures have caused buildings to be fumigated, and even condemned. Even if one accounts for some natural attrition (due to starvation, territorial infighting, and stupidity-related deaths), the biotoys’ ability to rapidly increase their numbers through mindless breeding efforts gave local governments all the reason they needed to ban them. But a species’ will to live can be stubborn—even in the case of a species whose individual members seem to so readily off themselves. Like standard fluffy ponies, they have proven easy to kill, yet hard to exterminate.
It was this set of facts that drove both David Owings and Maddie Cohen to the library on Saturday night, when both of them would rather have been doing other things. Quite honestly, David didn’t think this was how his conversation with the girl would turn out—he had hoped they might go and have dinner together, and then sit in the cozy living room in Carlisle and talk.
That being said, he was glad that she was taking such an interest in helping with his problem. And they were spending time together, which was the important thing.
“Soooo,” Maddie said, staring at the computer screen, “apparently, nobody makes a micro-specific abortifacient. It doesn’t even look like there’s a chemical spaying agent for them!”
David sighed. He didn’t want to kill Butter’s unborn foals—he didn’t know what had caused the demise of the yellow earthie’s herd, but he knew what it was like to feel alone. And although he had tried to be a friend to the micro, he knew it couldn’t be the same as having friends of his own kind. But when Maddie told him about the building in New York that had to be torn down because of all the microfluffy waste, and about how quickly all of her cousin’s micros had turned on each other, he knew he would have to make a tough decision.
“I just don’t know. What choice do I have?”
“There’s no choice at all! No wonder you can’t buy them anymore—if there’s no way to fix them, then how can people own them responsibly? I mean, our choice is either to kill them for sure with poison,” she said, pointing to a picture on the screen of a green box with a skull and crossbones, “or to maybe kill them by overdosing them on chemical sterilizers.”
David rubbed the bridge of his nose. She was right, of course—this wasn’t going to end well, regardless of what he decided to do. But he felt a duty of care, and knew that he had to be the one to decide.
“We can’t run the risk of their population exploding and having Boreman rot around us, and I won’t let the ones that are already there die. Let’s get the sterilizers.”
“Yeah. Good idea,” Maddie said. “Hmmm…it looks like there are a couple of options here—both for regular fluffies, of course—there’s an oral one, that you can’t give a pregnant mare, and a cheaper one that has to be administered…vaginally.”
The boy cringed. He didn’t know just how he would convince Butter’s mate to let him shove a syringe into her uterus, and didn’t really care to try, either.
“If it makes the decision any easier, you can’t give her the…uh…vaginal one while she’s pregnant either. It says here that could lead to both miscarriage and internal bleeding.”
“Go with the oral one, then. I should be able to grind it up into their spaghetti seven days in a row. The mare should pass it to her foals in the milk, right?”
“We can hope. Okay—” click “—done! Two day shipping means it should be here by Wednesday at the latest. I’ve set it to ship in your name, too. Are you really ok spending thirty bucks on this?”
David shrugged. “The only cheaper options are to kill them with poison or the bottom of my shoe. I…just wouldn’t feel right doing that. Not after I’ve kept him safe for this long.”
Now that the decision was made, they walked out of the library without saying a word. Maddie looked at the boy as he trudged across the quad, too focused on what he would have to do to notice the look the girl was giving him. Then, a thought struck him.
“Ah, crap!”
“What?”
“The cafeteria’s closed. I had hoped we’d at least have time to go get a salad or something.”
The teenage girl blushed. “Well, if you want, I’m sure Miss Wilkinson has some pizza left over from what she bought for the girls last night. Do you wanna…I don’t know…come over to Carlisle for a few minutes?”
David looked shocked. Did she just invite him to dinner? “Uh, yeah. Sure! Sounds good.”
“Ok, then.”
His face flushed red, though he convinced himself that Maddie wouldn’t be able to tell if it was his anxiety or just windburn, as the cold winter air swept through the empty trees. As they made their way to the girls’ dorm, he slowly reached his gloved hand over towards hers—
“You know,” the girl said, startling David to the point where he stuffed his hand back into his coat pocket, “I’m really proud of the way you made a decision back there. And I think it’s sweet that you care so much about Butter.”
“Really?” he replied. Is that the best response you can come up with, David? “Really?” Why don’t you compliment her for something, you sperg. “By the way, you look really nice with your new contacts.”
“Thank you!” Maddie said, wrapping both her arms around his as they walked. She felt soft and warm, two qualities not otherwise found on the frigid night.
David’s package arrived on Wednesday, as expected. It was smaller than he thought, and the tiny box had in it four packets, each of which had seven days’ worth of oral sterilizers intended for regular fluffy foals. Judging Butter and “Sugar”, as he had come to call the tiny pegasus mare, to be about the size of said foals, he figured he could use two of the little tablets per day, ground up into their spaghetti. In theory, he figured, that should be enough to prevent the dam from getting knocked up again, and for the nursing foals to get the effect, as well. But for now, all he could do was wait.
The next week and a half passed slowly. Maddie came to sit with David in the cafeteria during most of his meals, which proved to be a pleasant development. She held her own in conversation with the boys, engaging Josh about his opinions on History class topics, and even showing interest as Ben extolled the virtues of fluffy steaks. Of course, she politely declined when he offered to cut off a bite for her to try, as most Jewish authorities consider them to not be kosher.
But most of what the students discussed centered on the upcoming school trip to Snowshoe. David had never been skiing before, and was reluctant to sign up, but Maddie convinced him it would be fun. He just hoped he didn’t make a fool of himself.
He diligently brought spaghetti to the microfluffies every day, hoping not to draw attention to what he was about to do. Most of the time, he had to slide the container behind his desk and next to the hole instead of giving it to him out in the open, as his roommate was hanging out in the room a lot more now.
Still, the freshman was able to sneak a little time with his friend every now and then. He tapped on the wall occasionally when he was alone and called to the stallion. When Butter came out, he asked how Sugar was.
“Speshuw fwend am suuu big wif babbehs! Nu can wun wif weggies nu mowe! An Buttew nu haf nuff nummies, an haf tummie-owwies! But dat’s otay, nice mistah…Buttew wan speshuw-fwend tu haf bestest babbehs! Speshuw fwend nee mowe nummies den Buttew!”
“I’ll try to start bringing you more spaghetti, then. It’s good that you’re giving up your food so that Sugar has enough for both her and the foals, but you need to eat, too.”
“Fankoo, nice mistah! Am bestes’ nice mistah eva!” The yellow stallion hugged the boy’s hand, and then scurried back into the crevice, pulling the Tupperware behind him.
Only a couple more days, now…
“Mummah wuv babbehs, babbehs wuv mummah,
dwink wots of miwkies, gwow up an’ be stwong!”
Butter had never experienced a prouder moment in his life. He cuddled two of the jellybean-sized foals as his special-friend sang her cheerful song. Two more foals nursed at the pegasus dam’s engorged teats, while two others rested on her front legs. The last three of the tiny babies slept in their mummah’s warm fluff, having already gotten their fill of milkies. A tenth foal, stillborn, had already been removed from the nest and would soon be forgotten.
“Das wight, babbehs! Dwink aww da miwkies ‘oo wan! Nice mistah bwing mummah an daddeh wotsa sketties, su mummah haf wotsa bestes’ miwkies!”
The stallion smiled. The nice mister had indeed brought them more spaghetti than they could eat when Butter told him about the foals’ birth. The kind human congratulated him on his large brood and had rushed off immediately to give them the generous meal. He even cut apart some more of his not-fluff so the earthie could replace the birth-soiled blankets from the nest.
Butter loved the boy for his kindness, and the micro was thankful to have someone looking out for his new fluffy family. David had protected him from the cold, from the monsters, and from starvation during the long, hard winter. In return, the stallion promised himself he would never to betray the boy’s trust, and to do whatever it took to be a good fluffy.
For now, that meant making sure he and his large family stayed hidden, and kept their home in the dormitory wall clean. This latter point was reinforced when one of the foals asleep in Sugar’s fluff released a stream of runny feces. Butter dutifully leaned over and licked up all of the waste.
“Huuuu…nu taste pwetty,” the stallion whined. “Bu’ Butter nu wan make twoubwe fo nice mistah!”
It was a chilly Friday afternoon as David and Maddie walked from the classroom building to the dorms, talking about the next day’s ski trip. People stared as they walked past holding hands, but they didn’t mind—it was sort of nice to have that kind of attention.
But they didn’t need the attention right now. At the moment, they needed a little bit of secrecy for what they were about to do. The microfluff foals were almost three days old now, and David promised Maddie he would try and coax Butter to let them see the tiny creatures. The boy was a little excited himself.
“How small do you think they are?”
“You know, my cousin’s micros have had foals before, and I think they were about the size of a jelly bean, or the end of your thumb. But I’ve never actually held one before.”
“Really? I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“Mmhmm. Let’s hope so.”
David realized a moment later how Maddie had taken his last statement, and then he turned red. Other than the kiss on the cheek she had given him before winter break, they still hadn’t kissed yet—the timing just never seemed right. There were always other people around.
Of course, she and I will be the only ones behind the dorm, he thought. Maybe this is it. As they turned the corner behind the building, he slowed down and looked all around. Nope. Nobody else here. He stopped, wondering if maybe this was what had really made her want to get out of sight.
Much to his disappointment, the girl kept walking. Once she realized he had stopped, she turned to face him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Are we doing this or not?”
He shook out of his stupor. “Uh, yeah…yeah, sorry, I zoned out a little bit there.” He walked over to the small hole in the wall where Butter and his family lived and tapped on the side of the building.
tap tap tap
“Hey, Butter! You there?”
The yellow earthie stallion wriggled out of the hole, huffing and puffing as he came. David thought he seemed abnormally frantic, and those thoughts were confirmed when the micro looked up at him with tears streaming down its cheeks.
“Nice mistah pwease hewp!” he cried. “Babbehs haf wowsest huwties an’ am makin’ wotsa sickies-wawa!”
Oh shit, he thought. He had been feeding Butter and Sugar spaghetti laced with sterilizing agents for three days now—from the time the mare foaled. He knew there would be a risk, but hoped that the chemicals would be diluted enough by their mother’s rich milk to not do them harm.
“What can I do, Butter?”
“Buttew nu kno. Maybe nice mistah gif huggies an make babbehs aww bettew? Buttew an’ speshuw-fwend huggies nu am make da huwties gu ‘way!”
“Uhhhh…” he looked back at Maddie, who obviously understood as much as he did. The girl had tears forming in her eyes, and she covered her mouth in horror. “Yeah, Butter. I’ll try.”
“Fankoo, nice mistah! ‘Oo am bestest fwend fo fwuffy famiwy!”
Oh, Butter, if you only knew what I did to you, he thought as the micro scurried back into the hole. A pit formed in his stomach as guilt began to overwhelm him.
“Oh, David, I’m so sorry. I never should have suggested—”
“You can’t blame yourself, Maddie,” he interrupted. “This was my mess. This is my mess. If anything bad happens, it’s my fault. You did the right thing.”
He stared at the hole, anticipating Butter’s arrival with the poisoned foals and wondering what he could have done to avoid the situation in which he found himself. He could hear Maddie breathing heavily behind him, as if she were holding back tears. Soon, the stallion emerged, carrying a tiny filly which shared his coloration in his mouth. Four other foals lay weakly on his back.
Butter lay down on the hard-packed snow and placed the monochrome yellow filly on his front legs. “Hewe am aww da babbehs wif sickies, nice mistah. Gif da babbehs huggies nao?”
David nodded. He gently picked up the yellow filly, which promptly vomited and shat on the ground.
“Oh my god,” he said, lifting the rest of the foals off of Butter’s back. Three of the five were already dead. Only the first foal and a grey filly with tiny wings still clung to life. Their barely audible chirps sounded desperate and weak, and the boy feared they would soon expire, as well.
“What du, nice mistah?”
“I don’t know, buddy,” David sighed. “It doesn’t look like there’s much I can do.” He didn’t tell the distraught earthie about the three dead foals—he didn’t know how refined their sense of death was, but then Butter said something that surprised him.
“Am babbehs…take foweva sweepies?”
Ok, apparently he does understand. “Yeah…I think so. I’m sorry, Butter.”
Butter, whose stream of tears had frozen to his fluffy cheeks, stared at the ground. “Is otay, nice mistah. Buttew kno ‘oo wuv da fwuffy famiwy, an hewp da fwuffies. Fankoo fow gif da foweva sweepies babbehs huggies. Buttew wiww teww speshuw-fwend an odda babbehs.”
By now, the last two holdouts had stopped struggling and died. David looked at their tiny bodies, and pondered just how much they really did look like they had just gone to sleep. As Butter disappeared back into the wall, David went around the back corner of the building and dropped the foals near the cornerstone. Soon, the snows would cover them, and they would vanish.
He wiped his hands clean in the fresh powder and dried them off with the handkerchief he kept in his blazer pocket. When he looked up from his now red hands, he saw that Maddie had given in to her grief and cradled her head in her hands.
“Maddie…you didn’t do anything wrong. I made a judgment call, and it turned out poorly.”
The girl looked at him with sad brown eyes. Her mascara was running, and her cheeks were bright red. “I shouldn’t have suggested the chemicals…We should have found another way.”
“There wasn’t another way. If there was one, you’d have figured it out. The only other choice we had was to kill them all—you know that.”
Even when she’s crying, she’s pretty, he thought. He reached up with his hand and wiped away a tear that was rolling down her cheek. His touch seemed to calm her, as she no longer choked back sobs. Then, he stepped forward and did something he never knew he had the courage to do—he kissed her.
The sensation he felt when his lips met hers was euphoric. He had never kissed a girl before, and was pretty sure she had never kissed anyone, but the awkwardness of the moment never crossed his mind. He put his hands on her waist, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Neither of them wanted to let go.
“Huuu…Sugaw haf tummeh-owwies, speshuw-fwend. Nee’ mowe nummies soon, ow nu can make miwkies fo babbehs! Whewe am nice mistah?”
Butter frowned. He didn’t know where the nice mister went, either. Several bright-times ago (the morning after half his babies had taken forever sleepies), the boy had brought him more food than usual, and said he would be gone for the whole day. The stallion was worried for his missing friend, but now was equally worried that he wouldn’t be able to find food for his mate and foals.
“Buttew nu kno, speshuw-fwend. Buttew nee’ find nummies fow miwkies. If nice mistah…nu come back, den Buttew nee gu owtside an bwing nummies tu da nestie!”
“Nu, speshuw fwend!” the mare yelled. A tiny, lime green filly crawled over to nurse, chirping all the way. “Nice mistah wiww come back! Nice mistah awways hewp fwuffies! Dat’s what speshuw fwend said!”
The yellow earthie sighed. He trusted David, and the boy had never done anything to betray that trust. “Otay, speshuw fwend. Buttew wiww wait fo’ da next bwite-time. If nice mistah nu back when next bwite-time come, den Buttew gu find nummies!”
And so he waited. A new snowstorm began that afternoon while Butter went outside to make his poopies, so he knew there would be little to no chance of finding anything worth eating out there. That meant when he woke up the next morning he would have to go into the dorm. But that was the lair of monsters.
When Dr. and Mrs. Broadderick first met young Ilya, they were shocked by his emaciated state. They had heard horror stories about orphanages in Eastern Europe, but hearing someone talk about how bad something is and seeing it for yourself are two different things.
The child had lived in group care for many years. No one knew who his biological parents were, and he showed all of the classic signs of malnutrition: he had next to no muscle mass, was physically weak, and was undersized for a boy of ten—if that was his age. No one in the orphanage seemed to know for sure.
Ilya showed no emotion for the entirety of the couple’s visit—he had no concept of love, nor of parents, nor of adoption. But when the doctor and his wife returned months later and said they were taking him home, he clung to them relentlessly. Dr. Broadderick picked up the too-light boy and carried him to the waiting taxi, then through the airport, and then held him on the long series of flights back to Kentucky.
They gave the boy the name “Eli”–both because it was close to Ilya and because it was the name of the doctor’s favorite uncle. But for a boy whose name meant “God”, the couple soon were convinced that they had brought home a plethora of demons.
While her husband was off becoming a rising star in the field of oncological surgery, Deana Broadderick fought those demons. She had quit her job as a teacher to stay at home with her only child, and spent her days dealing with his outbursts and deviant behavior. He stole, he lied, and he broke so many of the couple’s possessions that Deana decided to redecorate according to a minimalist lifestyle.
Eventually, the adoptive mother learned how to manage her son’s wilder impulses. The anger and fear were still ever-present, but her love and care for the boy gave him the assurance he needed to thrive. And thrive he did. In five years, the boy gained a healthy amount of weight, grew taller than both Deana and Arlen (including one six-inch summer), and excelled as a soccer player.
His speech and learning were well behind the curve, and both parents worked tirelessly to help and encourage him. Eli still struggled with English and Math, but enjoyed studying music. The Broaddericks were a staple at Kentucky Philharmonic concerts, and he discovered a particular love of Russian composers—particularly Tchaikovsky and Shostakovitch. One of the musicians even gave the boy her old violin, which he practiced every day when soccer practice was done.
Music was the one thing that made sense to Eli. He would spend hours playing his violin by ear, and within months he had even learned to sight-read. The one thing he couldn’t do was fully drown out the increasingly common shouting matches that went on down in the kitchen.
Despite being middle-aged, Arlen Broadderick was still a handsome man. Add that to his wealth and intellect, and he had more than ample opportunities to pursue women outside of his marriage. He did so often, until finally a pregnant intern showed up at his door, demanding he take responsibility.
Deana tried to be forgiving, and rather than kicking her philandering husband out of the house and taking everything he owned she allowed him to stay. That is, until he decided to leave for private practice in Los Angeles, taking his young secretary with him.
The new trauma of watching his parents’ divorce was too much for Eli to bear. He spiraled out of control, regressing both socially and academically to the point at which his mother decided she could no longer control him. At a time when she should have bonded even closer to her broken son, she took the advice of foolish friends and sent him off to boarding school.
Though the long, Georgian-style dormitories were more pleasing to the eye than the Soviet-era concrete structure which dominated his memories, the communal setting still gave him unpleasant flashbacks. But this time he didn’t need an uncaring housemistress telling him what he could and couldn’t do, and when he could do it. Instead, he shut himself away from the rest of the world, not even trying to develop a friendship with his soccer teammates or his younger roommate.
It was this lack of communication that precluded David Owings from telling Eli about Butter. The older boy had remained completely oblivious to the tiny creature’s presence until David had been gone for three days, and the microfluffy got so desperate to find food that it left its hole to scavenge. The tall, quiet boy came back to the dorm exhausted from an afternoon tutoring session to find the yellow stallion scurrying across the floor.
Butter remembered his friend’s warnings about a “scary monster” that lived in the room. The problem was, he had no idea what the scary monster looked like. To him, Eli looked like just another human, and as far as he was concerned, he had only had positive interactions with humans over the past few months. He turned to the boy and plopped down on his rump. His face wore a cheery smile.
“Hewwo, nice mistah! “Oo see odda nice mistah? Buttew nu find da nice mistah anywhewe! Nu haf ‘nuff nummies fo’ Buttew’s fam—”
Eli didn’t understand a word the beast said, interpreting its speech only as high-pitched squeaks. It was about the size of a small rat, and he treated it as such.
“Okhuyet’!” he yelled as his snow boot met the microfluffy with all the force of a goal kick. Butter didn’t even have time to scream. The boot’s impact shattered every bone from his jaw to his rib cage, and when he smacked against the wall mere inches from David’s desk his life force went out. He was dead before he hit the ground.
David’s aunt brought him back to campus once the hospital released him. His leg still hurt like hell from getting the pins put in his leg, and he was a little embarrassed by the clink clink clink sound he made as he walked down the sidewalk on his crutches.
Maddie, Ben, and Josh all met him at the campus entrance when he arrived and talked with him about all the things he had missed during his absence. It was good to be back where he belonged.
Their first stop would be the cafeteria for dinner. On their way, they passed the old maintenance man in the quad.
“Hi, Mr. McClain,” Ben said, “they ever figure out who stuffed all those pine cones into the gym lockers?”
“No,” the man said suspiciously, “but when I do, they’ll be scrubbing the shower tiles with their toothbrushes. Oh, you’re David Owings, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, noting the look of concern on both Ben and Josh’s faces.
“I’ll be over tomorrow morning to take care of the little problem.”
“What problem, sir?”
“Oh, that’s right. You’ve been gone. Your roommate put in a maintenance request a couple of hours ago. Apparently, a fluffy pony got in your room. He took care of it, but I need to find out how it got in, and make sure there aren’t any more. Those things breed like rabbits, you know. Maybe faster.”
David felt the color leave his face. His good leg turned to jelly, and he felt like he was going to fall. Maddie must have noticed, as she reached over to steady him.
“Thanks, Mr. McClain,” the girl said. “We’d better get going now. He’s still new to these crutches.”
The old man smiled kindly. “All right, then. You take care of that boy, Maddie. And I hope you’re better soon, David.”
“Thanks, sir,” David said weakly.
As the maintenance man walked away, leaving Ben and Josh looking confused, Maddie held David’s head to her chest.
“Oh, David…”
What?” Josh asked. “What’s wrong?”
The girl ignored him. She continued to hold the boy, as if she could take all of his pent-up emotions into herself. But he didn’t cry or sob. He was merely stunned. It felt as if someone had stabbed him in the gut and then twisted the knife.
“I need to go find him, Maddie. He deserves a proper burial, at least.”
“No, David. He’s gone. I’m sorry, but you know you can’t help him.”
“No, not him. But I need to get Sugar and the foals out of the hole before Mr. McClain gasses them.”
She cradled the boy’s head and looked straight into his eyes. “You heard what he said—he’s not going to do anything until tomorrow morning. Right now we need a plan.”
“Wait, wait, wait—how are you keeping fluffies, Owings?” Ben asked, incredulously. “They’re too big to keep in Boreman unnoticed. Besides, you know they could expel you for that shit, right?”
Maddie and David looked at each other momentarily, and then the boy nodded. The girl told Butter’s story from beginning to end as the microfluffy’s best friend in the world stared off into the distance and watched the snow falling gently around them.